Skip to main content

Don’t let others Negotiate your Marriage


My husband and I have been married for two blissful years. 


Within our years of matrimony, we are learning that outside sources can belittle your bliss. Those sources can also tense your bond, and cause your marriage braid to fray.


Do NOT let that happen! Put up blockades and set boundaries to stop traffic of tension within your romantic realm. 


Outside sources that negotiate your marriage:


  • Immediate family that negotiates the peace treaty within your marriage and causes chaos.
  • Friends that cling to you or your spouse, negotiating unwanted attention.
  • Activities or groups that negotiate the quality time spent with your spouse.
  • Sinful acts that splutter red ink upon the sanctity of the marriage contract.


Foreign frivolities can dampen the treaty of your marriage that you have negotiated with your husband or wife. Outside sources can wet the paper and tear at your hearts causing arguments.


Do NOT let that happen! 


  • Distance yourself from family (but pray for them) that slyly signs your marriage treaty with stress. 
  • Set up orange cones, setting barriers against bludgeoning outsiders of discord.
  • Always make your husband or wife a priority over negotiations of busyness. 
  • Flee temptation and do not sign the “sin treaty”.


Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate." Mark 10:9


As a married couple you have negotiated a peaceful treaty of marriage, do not let others or things, coarse that constitution. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

"Memory Day" Memories

“Memory Day” Memories   August 11 th , 2008 will always be etched in my mind.   Why? Do you ask?   That was the day the leading man in my life went home, my dad, Bob J. O’Banion.   He was my encourager, support system, teacher, boulder, and most importantly, a godly leader.   When you needed a hand, both of his calloused hands were there to hug, shake, and give you a pat on the back.   When you needed Christian advice, his wisdom traveled from his can line to yours.   With the can pressed against your ear, you’d hear, “God is the way, the truth, and the light.”   He was a true definition of a man, a sovereign man.   Integrity made him a humble guide through the Blueridge Mountains, the dry desert, and beyond.   Love lined his face with deep canyon wrinkles.   He sought and dug ditches to provide.   The rooftop was his “day home”.   Sun-tanned skin branded him a “sweat by the brow” toiler.   Family sto...

Seasonal Change

The loss of my dad still hurts, especially when seasons change.  . For those who have lost a loved one, the aching still seems to pulsate through the cracks left upon our hearts.  . Seasonal change can breeze in bronzes of bereavement. It can fall with ambers of aches and molasses colored missing.  . For me, this is true about Autumn. The leaves change once again, and my dad’s memory wafts o’er red-roofed wishing wells. The shallow water collects pennies of “wish you were here” under Birch trees.  . Seasons and holidays blow in memories that patina the past.  . Those who have lost a parent, we think upon childhood memoirs. Instances where we held our mom or dad’s hands, while strolling under amber stained glass etched with maple leaves.  . I think upon harvest memories where the jack-o-lanterns flow, and the crockpot chili steams in bowls.  . My dad walks behind my brother and I as we prance towards candy. In seasonal memory “trick-or-treats” bounce of...

Climb the Rope of Hope

  I have to admit, I’m feeling a dew drop of sadness today. I was supposed to go to a RV show with friends, but decided to stay home. Why did I stay home? I miss my dad. It’s been almost 12 years and I still ache for him. I miss his love and his godly guidance (I’m crying as I write this post). I couldn’t go trudge in and out of memories. I couldn’t go up and down steps of the past. My heart couldn’t bear the weight of camper-sized flashbacks.  When I was growing up, we were a band of gypsies, as my dad called us. We traveled the highway and byways of America in our RV. We’d laugh and play games. We’d have conversations about God’s beauty. We’d bond as a family, as a God braided clan. That bond has made me grieve a hard grief. That closeness clamors my heart with the dad category of love. I don’t grieve on a daily basis anymore. The wounds of loss have healed. The scar is not as prevalent. But, the missing still resides. The missing still dews rosy teardrops.  ...